


how the cracks begin to show

by ohnomydear



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Companion Piece, Deviates From Canon, Gen, I hid under your porch because I love you, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Panic Attacks, Protective Jason Todd, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnomydear/pseuds/ohnomydear
Summary: Jason Todd didn't intend to stick around Gotham any longer than necessary. Of course, skipping town got tricky when the Replacement showed up at his safehouse, out of coffee, options, and apparently out of everyone's memories. Well. If there was one thing Jason felt sure of, it was that the frakking Batfamily wouldn't function without Tim in it.One-shot AU companion piece to "I never call (a crazy thing to do)".





	how the cracks begin to show

**Author's Note:**

> So... this has been rattling around in my head for months, and really wrote itself over the course of a day. It's an AU-Role Reversal from my fic "I never call (a crazy thing to do)" and is a one-shot. It's also very hurt/comfort, rather more emotionally charged than the canon, and instant gratification sort of fluff (no slash/no pairings though). 
> 
> Apologies for any errors in talking about panic attacks. The "Teen" rating is because of language, because Jason Todd. 
> 
> If you haven't read "I never call," the tl;dr backstory is there's an artifact that erases everyone's memory. In the original, it affects Jason. In this, it affects Tim. I should be rewriting the canon to Be Better... but I wanted to write something that wasn't going to have plot consequences (and what's less consequencey than an AU??).
> 
> Thank you all for reading. 
> 
> Chapter title is from 'Nobody's Side' in Chess.
> 
> Edit: *snort* I'd made an error in uploading and this was up for like 24 hours without a summary. I've added one now. XD

According to Jason’s calculations on the Batcomputer, Tim had been working on cases ever since coming to consciousness and driving to Wayne Manor. No way in hell that was healthy. Jason teased the kid a bit on his way in, featuring comments like ‘anything else you need me to help steal?’ and ‘so how’s that sleepytime tea treating you?’ – until Tim hunched down in the seat and intentionally began ignoring him. 

Hey, at least he didn’t seem any the worse for wear from the blow to the head with the artifact the night before. See Timmy, this is why _helmets_ are a thing smart people incorporate into their nightlife personas. He jogged upstairs, hoping that his discussion with Bruce went as well (and as quickly) as the conversation with Tim. 

After getting Bruce’s blessing to wrap up his coastline case in Gotham as long as he didn’t kill anyone, Jason gently rebuffed Alfred’s attempt at getting him to stay in Wayne Manor, and headed back to the Cave. Tim was, unsurprisingly, still hunkered over the Batcomputer, several grisly case files open. 

“Sleep at some point, Replacement!” Jason called to the Batfamily’s resident coffee fiend on his way towards the garage. 

Tim flailed an arm at him without looking, which was to be expected. Now that Tim had his ‘getting told to sleep means no one can serve me food or drink’ rule firmly in place, the young man was firmly on the road to never sleeping again. Jason felt sure there would be at least one instance of Alfred putting sedatives in everything in the house, then a shouting match. Shame he wouldn’t be there to see it.

And now, for his safehouse. 

Jason sped into central Gotham, pausing only for a quick call to let Bizarro and Artemis know he was wrapping up the kidnapping case. A couple days and he’d be back with them in New York, where they were currently tracking down a splinter group of one of Lex Luthor’s stream of failed, not-well-publicized businesses. Long story, not very exciting. 

His east coast kidnappers, however, kept him busy. He’d been waiting for the word from Bruce to move on them and when he did, his determination was swift (but not final). The captain of their crew tried hard to be monologuey and charismatic at the same time, which Jason found obnoxious. It was vindicating to have tracked them down in under a week, when they had been frustrating cops up and down the coast for months. And then to take them all out (non-lethally) in one night? Priceless.

Besides, of all his safehouses, the Gotham one he had chosen to use had the nicest bed. 

Alfred had bought it when Jason was too injured to realistically argue and too panic-driven to recover at Wayne Manor, so the Bats had all taken turns at his safehouse making sure he didn’t die. Ah, stubbornness. Ran in the family and good damn fun. When he’d abandoned that safehouse for another, non-compromised one, he’d brought the bed along.

He unlocked the door and was about to enter, shut, and triple-lock it again when someone said: “Um, Jason?”

He recognized the voice as Tim’s and froze. To his knowledge, this safehouse was uncompromised up until now. He still wore his Red Hood gear, though he’d already stored the helmet and holsters, concealing the guns. Had he killed anyone tonight that would put the Bats on him? Had he killed anyone lately? Had he drop-kicked/shot at/garroted/knife-fought/dropped from a great height/shoved in a hole—

“Jason?” Tim’s voice had gotten a little ragged. Desperate. Jason decided to take a chance.

“Yup.”

Weirdly, Tim sounded more terrified, not less. “…could you say my name?”

“What?”

“Please, Jason.”

“Replacement?” Tim made a strangled noise. Okay, maybe this was some identity crisis thing and he needed to hear his actual name. Fine, Jason could do that. “Tim, Timothy, Timmers, Timberland, Timberine, Tim-Tam, Timbelina, Timber—whoa!” 

The Replacement threw himself against Jason’s chest, hugging him. Jason’s hands twitched with discomfort behind the kid’s back. Yeah, they’d hugged a couple times but not for a long, long time and Tim definitely didn’t behave like this with Jason. Exaggerating his discomfort to hide it, Jason patted the kid roughly on the head.

“There, there…? Hey, people are gonna talk. I’ve got a reputation as a player to maintain.”

“No, you don’t,” Tim said, face buried in Jason’s chest armor. Jason let the hand drop on his head, confused. Tears sounded like they were thickening the kid’s voice. It activated every part of him that still thought of the younger Robins as kids and worthy of protection. 

“What’d Bruce do now?” he said, mindful of the fact that he was still largely in Red Hood gear and Tim was dressed as Timothy Drake-Wayne, Wayne Enterprises’ teenage CEO. And that those two people did not generally hug in a hallway.

“It’s not him. Or, I don’t think it’s _just_ him.” Tim was literally shaking. “They don’t know who I am. If it was just a long con of Damian’s, I could buy it, but Alfred tried to tie me up when he found me in the Cave. I think Dick taught him some things with escrima, by the way.”

“That’s the last thing we need, an acrobatic, projectile-proficient Alfred.”

Tim snorted in laughter, though it sounded painful. “Can’t help it, I just pictured him in the Discowing suit.”

“Ah, hell, now I’m going to think about that at Thursday dinner.” Jason pushed open his door one-handed, nudging Tim towards the great indoors. “Come on, mopey, I’m not set up for sobs out here.”

“I’m not sobbing,” Tim insisted but let himself be nudged inside. “Good God, you have no idea how to decorate.”

“It’s a safehouse, Replacement, it does what it’s supposed to. So, why come to me?”

“You were the last person to see me, last night. I slept at my apartment and when I went back this morning, I went directly to the Cave. Then everything fell apart.” Tim slumped onto Jason’s couch which, even if everything else was crappy, the bed was good and the couch was good. He had standards, after all. 

Jason realized he’d be cooking tonight. Good thing he’d done the standard grocery run yesterday. 

“You called work yet?” Jason asked, shutting and triple-locking the door. 

Tim shook his head, expression flickering as he ran through his options.

“No… I could try Monica, my secretary. She’ll be there until nine.” Tim dialed before Jason could suggest that, as a non-person, Tim might not have a secretary. Jason lingered by the kitchen half-wall to watch. 

“Hi, Monica!” Tim said, in a bright voice that belied his posture and the tenseness of his shoulders. “This is David, over in Marketing, and a friend and I were trying to remember if your boss is hyphenating his last name or not, these days.” A pause. Tim’s expression stayed neutral. “Yes, your boss. Little guy, bit on the young side?” The façade cracked a little, with irritation though, not concern. “No, not Bruce, obviously he’s at the top, but _your_ boss. Can you just look at the faceplate on the office behind—okay.” Tim’s tone went flat. “Yeah, I can understand. Leadership changes happen over everyone’s head, I get it. Had you ever—before he… left, had you ever met this Tim guy? Ever, just—” 

Tim braced his forehead against the palm of his fist, hair falling over his eyes. In contrast to this motion, his voice went kind, calming. 

“No, no, _I’m_ sorry for upsetting you. It’s really not urgent. You’re not an idiot, Mon, someone probably just put that name up as a joke.” He forced a laugh. “Yeah, it could be Marketing at that, it’s not me but I’ll ask around. I swear, half of these guys don’t even know when April Fools Day is, they just do random crap all year. Sorry, again, I wasn’t trying to wind you up.” He listened for a few more seconds. “Please, don’t worry about it. I’ll get to the bottom of this Drake-Wayne nonsense. Yeah.” His posture hunched a little further into itself. “Yes. Yes. Thank you. Have a good night, Monica.”

Jason waited until Tim was definitely off the phone, not at all bothered that the kid knew he’d been listening. 

“I need to give Monica more days off,” Tim whispered to himself, without changing position.

“Chicken fajitas or honey garlic chicken with brown rice?” Jason asked. Tim swiped at his eyes and shifted to frown up at Jason, as if he’d forgotten he was sitting in the Red Hood’s apartment. Naturally, the kid shook his head, plastering on one of those tight, fake smiles that he thought passed muster.

“I’m not hungry, thank you,” Tim said.

“Not what I asked.”

Tim knew well enough not to argue. “Chicken fajitas, then.”

“Good. I’d invite you into the kitchen but,” Jason moved into the kitchen, the half-wall of which didn’t impair his view of Tim on the couch. “Well, you’re right there. It also means if you go trying to slip out the window or the door before dinner, I’m gonna know.” 

Realizing this was true, Tim sank a little deeper into the cushions, pulling off his loafers and setting them tidily by the end of the couch. He tucked his feet up under him and removed an on-the-go phone charger block from his pocket, plugging it into his phone. Good, at least it looked like he didn’t plan on bolting.

“Out and about all day, then?” Jason asked. The kid made a noncommittal noise. 

“Tell me about your day, Timmy,” Jason ordered, a suspicion in the back of his mind. Tim looked up, eyes rounded a little with concern and irritation. 

“No, Jason.”

“Humor me.”

“I don’t think the situation is funny,” Tim deadpanned. “So no.”

“How long were you outside my door?” Jason asked, gesturing at the entrance to the apartment. This regrettably sent some onion bits flying towards it but, hell, he needed to clean this weekend anyway. Tim’s flash of a terrified expression validated his suspicions, even if the Replacement hid it as soon as he could.

“Not long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Hey, can we make coffee? I haven’t had any in… hours.” The pause at the end of the sentence further confirmed what Jason was expecting.

“Someone broke the carafe a couple weeks back, sorry.” Instead, Jason tossed a couple of caffeine candies over the half-wall, which Tim snatched out of the air like a cat at sparrows.

“Why didn’t you text me earlier?” Jason followed up the question, returning his attention to the fajitas. 

“I didn’t want to find out I was wrong about you remembering me via text.” Tim’s voice sounded even. Logically Jason knew Tim’s words didn’t match up with his feelings. He paid careful attention to not making eye contact now. With Timmy, there was always a chance he’d decide to bolt and wouldn’t be findable in heaven or earth. 

“Did you just research it all day then?” Jason asked. “Obviously you didn’t sneak into Wayne Enterprises to check on that thing that clocked you yesterday.”

“I know what they know,” Tim said. “They don’t know about me, so they haven’t invalidated any of my passwords and I built most of the security myself.”

“And?”

“And they don’t know much. Alien artifact. Seems to be tied to memories. I’ve put together some stuff since, but… not much.”

“I suppose you tried calling Dick to see if this is localized to Gotham.”

“Dick. The Titans in San Francisco – I got Gar, who didn’t know me. I would’ve called the JLA but…” Tim trailed off again, staring fixedly at a spot on the carpet. “I got tired.”

Jason glanced up from the steaming frying pan, since _not_ glancing up at this point would seem inappropriate. “You, tired? What a ridiculous notion.”

“Yes, I panicked,” Tim said, his voice flat. It remained flat, even as he asked questions that should have been increasing in volume and intensity. “That’s what you want to know with all these questions. If I spent most of the day having intermittent panic attacks about this. Because yes, there’s now a coffeeshop on Klostermann I can’t go back to. And the bank on Randolph where I spent ten minutes at the ATM when it should have taken thirty seconds. And then the phone call to the JLA… Today has sucked, Jason, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.” 

Jason swallowed, regretting his blunt questioning if only for the way Tim had reacted. “I’d hoped not.”

“Well.”

“It’s…” Jason struggled to find the right words, or any words, that would ring true for their experience and line of work. “It’s not permanent. They won’t have forgotten you forever, Tim.”

“You think I don’t know that?” And suddenly Tim had gone from flat to seething with anger, a ball of ferocious C-suite executive on Jason’s couch. “I’ve been here for the ‘not permanent.’ I know what it looks like. I usually solve things so they’re NOT permanent and that’s not being arrogant, Jason.”

“I know, kiddo.” Jason had to turn some of his attention to making sure the fajitas didn’t scorch. Tim misinterpreted his shift as shyness, avoiding the question.

“I’m not going to wait for this to ‘wear off,’ like it’s a wacky spell. I can’t just sit outside Wayne Manor and wait for Damian to actually kill—” Tim cut himself off, shaking his head. “And Bruce won’t come to—” 

Tim’s voice cracked dangerously. He stopped talking. Jason kept glancing up at him, assessing his expressions, then back down at the chicken.

“Bruce won’t know to look for me,” Tim forced the words out. 

Inside the boots of the Red Hood uniform, Jason felt his toes press flat to the ground in an attempt not to take on Tim’s pain as his own. If he took on Tim’s pain, he’d get angry at Bruce for doing this to another kid, even though they had no proof Bruce was anything other than a victim of memory manipulation. He needed not to be angry.

Damnit, Dick Grayson did this kind of thing. The family thing, the consoling thing. By all rights, Tim should’ve gone to Bludhaven and he could’ve talked to someone who wouldn’t get angry at Bruce. Instead, he perched on Jason’s couch and was trying not to cry.

“We both know I’m pretty shit at touchy-feely, Replacement,” Jason said, transferring the fajitas off of the heat and circling the kitchen half-wall to enter the living room. “It comes from being an exemplary example of badassery—”

“Exemplary example is redundant.”

“Sorry, you’re calling _me_ redundant? Okay, wrong time, wrong time, shit at words, remember?” He flopped down next to Tim on the couch. “Anyway. You are forgetting one very important thing.”

“You love children and in your zombified, ageist mind, I am a child.” 

Jason almost laughed and he turned the sound into a cough just in time. Laughing would make the Replacement think he’d successfully deflected the conversation and he didn’t want that. Tim had already scooted away from him on the couch, though he had to unfold himself first to move. One of them was sitting on the phone charger block.

“Pretty sure you’re seventeen, Replacement, so no, that’s not what applies here. You are forgetting that the family will go to pieces without you, you arrogant sonovabee. You’re the smartest of ‘em. And I am the damnedest of ‘em, so I’m going to frakking shove you back into their lives if it takes me a week.”

“So, we’re limiting this by time?” Tim said, alarm ringing in his tone. Replaying it mentally, Jason realized his statement could sound like he meant to drop Tim after a week if he couldn’t fix it.

“Hell no, I just don’t want to be stuck in Gotham for longer than a week. Have you _seen_ this place?” Jason gestured grandiosely at the apartment around them. “The décor is shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if you broke in earlier and then decided to wait out in the hall, in hopes I’d take you somewhere nicer. I’m with you ‘til we fix it, Replacement.”

Tim didn’t seem to know what to do with this information, other than stare at that spot in the carpet until it looked like his gaze would burn right through. 

“And if it doesn’t work? Or it takes years?” Tim asked in a hushed voice. “I can’t lose them, Jason. I’ve lost everyone else and if there’s nothing here—” His chest began heaving as panic set in. “If there’s nothing here, I _have_ to keep moving. I’ll have to leave Gotham, I’ll have to start—” He braced his hands on his thighs, breathing shakily. “I won’t be able to stay here, seeing them and not being part of— I can’t live in an open wound. But I don’t—” The poor kid laced his fingers behind his head, trembling. “I don’t want to start over again. Oh my God, Jay, I can’t—” 

“It’s gonna be fine, Tim.” Jason cringed at the triteness of the encouragement. He didn’t know what else to do with the panicking teenager, so he shifted position so he was no longer sitting on the charger block. Then he pulled Tim towards him on the couch, which had the unexpected consequence of sending his little brother into twitchy, quiet sobs. 

They were both going to get soaked, along with his nice couch. 

“… we’ll keep your little shark brain happy here, okay, Tim? We need it. You can stay. You’re going to be able to stay.”

Tim nodded against him, but couldn’t pull himself out of the crying jag before it had run its course. Jason understood that, though he would never admit it, and just let it happen. 

The fajitas got cold. 

#

Sixteen hours later, the Red Hood rode into the Cave with a visitor behind him on the motorcycle. Batman had been suiting up for patrol and straightened to his full height. 

“Hood,” he said as the pair got off the motorcycle. “We’ve talked about unannounced visitors.”

The subtext: Especially visitors you bring in, since we’re still not sure about you either. 

“Yeah, but this one belongs to you,” Jason replied. “Maybe you’ve noticed the name Red Robin on your roster? It’s not me, if that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed beneath the cowl as he took in the younger man, who was still wearing a motorcycle helmet. When Tim pulled off the helmet, the eyes didn’t change. 

“You’ve probably come across the name Tim Drake in your files,” Jason said. “This is him.”

“And I’m sure he appreciates you vouching for him, Hood,” Batman said and his tone let Jason know exactly where he stood in this family drama. Distrusted and right now in trouble for bringing Tim in without permission. 

“Yeah, he does. But I’d vouch for him if he wasn’t, because you’ve forgotten Robins before. Hell, you’ve shut out Robins before and he knows about all of them. And I’m not going to let it happen to him. So he’s frakking patrolling with you tonight.”

Batman’s head twitched to Jason in something close to revulsion. “You can’t assign me partners, Red Hood.” 

“I’m in town on my own case, B, why would I be here if this wasn’t a thing?” Jason pulled off the helmet, scowling. “You know I said I’d leave town without coming back to the Cave when I was done. Instead, I’m here with the Replacement. This frakking matters.”

Bruce eyed Tim and Jason could tell that the younger man’s confidence was beginning to erode under the heat of Bruce’s glare, and probably the memory of Alfred trying to forcibly stop him from leaving last time.

“You’re a detective, Batman, you’re seriously going to walk away from a case just because it came to you?”

Bruce continued studying both of them, without sympathy or rejection. The spark of interest was in his body language though, curiosity that wasn’t going to be left alone for long.

“I won’t steal any gear when I leave town,” Jason offered suddenly. Bruce’s eyes snapped to him, analyzing the offer.

“I thought it was Robin,” Bruce said, measuring out the words carefully. 

“Oh, sure, the baby bat takes his cut of stuff for his private hoard, but no, it’s pretty much me.”

“Hn.” Bruce looked at Tim again from beneath the safety of the Batman cowl, in his Cave, surrounded by things that meant he could make sure no one bothered his family without consequences. 

Jason knew Bruce felt betrayed by this, but Bruce would have thrown Tim out if he came to Wayne Enterprises and Alfred would have thrown him out (or restrained him) if he came to the front door of the manor. No telling what Damian would do. 

So, the Cave. If everything went sideways, Bruce would shove responsibility at Jason for Tim’s care and continued discretion. That would be easier than pretending they could keep a secret from the Bats for a week. Or… longer.

Jason knew it could be longer. Even since they had come up with this plan (mostly Jason’s doing, thank you very much), Tim had made great progress on figuring out what had happened. They just needed time, and Tim needed the Bats’ support. Primarily for the resources only they had access to, and secondarily for the fact that he needed them. His family. 

“Fine,” Bruce said finally, channeling the Batman voice for the single word. “But not as a Robin, or this Red Robin person.”

Tim’s expression betrayed nothing, though he swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. 

“Well, Jay, guess you’re not patrolling tonight,” Tim said. 

“Suits me, I’ve wrapped up most of my nonsense in Gotham anyway, barring you.” Jason plopped the helmet on the Replacement’s head, eliciting a yelp from Tim, who hadn’t seen that coming. 

God, it felt weird to allow him to wear it. The uniform loan wasn’t permanent, obviously, and no one wanted it to be, most of all Tim. It still felt strange to hand off the uniform voluntarily, to let the kid be the Red Hood for a night, knowing that nothing Tim could do would tarnish the persona more than Jason already had. Jason would have insisted, if Tim hadn’t suggested it though. Between the helmet and the body armor, which was eons better than the lightweight old uniforms Dick had lying around the Cave, Tim would be safe, if nothing else. 

The red helmet swiveled around as Tim got his bearings, asking in a muffled voice if Jason thought it’d be so terrible if the Red Hood used a bo staff for one night. Also, Tim commented mildly, he was going to clean up the operating systems the minute he could because honestly, was Jason using Windows 95? Seriously? How was that even running?

Jason grinned and said the bo staff sounded fine. 

Projects would keep Tim’s feet in Gotham, for however long this memory issue lasted. Jason looked forward to seeing Tim’s face when the Replacement figured out it _was_ a copy of Windows 95, back-engineered to mock a Linux creation on one of Tim’s unlocked gaming laptops, and booby-trapped to hell when you opened the command function without the password. Roy had helped him set it up to prevent hacking and he enjoyed the thought of siccing his little brother on it. 

They’d have the time to solve this.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: This is a one-shot, so this very unhappy chapter is all there is of this AU.


End file.
